


The Wager

by Eravalefantasy



Series: Witcher One Shots [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Based on Witcher 3 game play, F/M, Post Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eravalefantasy/pseuds/Eravalefantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wild Hunt and White Frost defeated, Geralt has a gift for Ciri. A wager between the two takes shape in White Orchard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wager

 

 _The flash that cuts through darkness, the light that breaks the night._ The inscription gleams from the light of the braziers. A sword Geralt once owned bore the same inscription.

The sword in his hands is not for himself, but he carries it with reverence and deep delight. Engraved in the silver-coated steel, words in the Elder speech are significant to a chosen few - she will understand.  He dismisses the countless lies told to allow her to continue in the way of her choosing as a necessity.

 _Not my choice_ , he thinks, _it’s what she wants that matters._

The inn is crowded with locals and soldiers. The war is over but it will take months to see the departure of the armies. Geralt of Rivia does not acknowledge those around him as he weaves through the bar. Patrons stare but look away quickly as he passes. He is well known in White Orchard.

Geralt feels eyes follow him towards the back, near the exit. The crowd is thinner, the tables empty save for a lone figure who sits facing away from him; a hooded cowl obscures the person beneath it. 

The cloak concealing her is frayed and worn she could be a local, or just a weary traveler. But not to him.

He pauses and grips the sword in his hands, cradling it. The weight of the moment for him and for her halts his steps.  He inhales long and deep and nods to no one but himself as he walks to join his companion. Sword hidden at his side, he sits.

Glancing towards her, she speaks to him. “Is it done?” Tension in her jaw tells him she is troubled still.

“Yes,” his reply is gentle in contrast to her tense words.

Ciri’s eyes meet his. “Did he believe you?”

She removes her hood in time to see a slight up curve to the corners of his lips. Geralt shakes his head, “I have no idea.” Emhyr var Emreis gave Geralt no sign if he believed the Witcher’s story of Ciri’s death. If doubts remained, the Emperor revealed nothing.

More child to Geralt and the sorceress Yennefer, perhaps Emhyr thought it best to let the ghost of Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon fade away.  Geralt shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

“What is that look about?” Ciri asks, a half smile creeping onto to face.

“Poetic thoughts,” he says, “won’t let it happen again.” A sly wink in her direction tells her this part of the conversation is finished.

Geralt is positive they have an observer to their conversation, but continues to talk with Ciri in spite of the intrusion.

_______________________

Janek watched the ashen haired woman from behind a post. He’d seen her for three nights and each night he’d tried to work up the nerve to talk with her. The man beside her, well known in the village, is a witcher: Geralt of Rivia. He seemed a decent sort, despite the tales told to them as children. _Witchers were no better than the monsters they hunted._ Old wives’ tales told of woe and misfortune to any village harboring a witcher.

The truth was different. Janek found Geralt to be soft of voice and respectful. As the apprentice to the town blacksmith, Janek had spoken few words with Geralt about materials or repairs to armor and his blades and not once did Geralt treat him with disdain.

It was the hope of finally talking with the woman that brought him to this side of the tavern. The villagers stayed away from the two visitors, but Janek’s curiosity in the beautiful woman won out over his fear. 

He watched as she smiled and tossed a coin purse to Geralt. What was he to her? He snuck closer to hear their conversation, saw Geralt pull a sword from his side, and placed it on the table in front of her.  Janek had never seen such artisanship. Janek dreamed to find a master willing to teach him about sword making, but this – perfection.  The strange patina to the metal seemed curious to him he thought perhaps silver; or the swordsmith had tinted star metal. 

Janek could not help himself and stepped forward so entranced by the sword he forgot his hiding space.

_______________________

“Seems we have an audience,” Geralt inclined his head to show the young man’s presence. Ciri sheathed the sword and placed it gently on the table in front of her. Geralt hid a smile at her gentle hands remembering the countless practice weapons Ciri lost or broke when she was young. _She’s not that young girl anymore_ , he reminded himself.

Geralt excused himself to grab a drink. He asked the young man, out of courtesy, if he would like anything.

“No. I mean no thank you, Master Witcher.” Janek’s voice shook slightly at the direct conversation with Geralt. The Witcher stood and his tall frame and piercing gaze forced Janek to step back from Ciri. Geralt chuckled to himself as he walked towards the bar. Paying for two bottles of whatever was on hand, he returned with three mugs and the drink to share to find Janek stumbling over his words.

“I wondered, miss, if you planned on remaining in the village – if I might, that is - if you would like to, of course.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and poured three drinks. “Sit. Breathe. Have a drink and then ask your questions.”  He smiled into his mug as Ciri glared at him eyes wide.

Janek sat across from Ciri and gripped the proffered mug so tightly his knuckles were white from the effort. Taking a quick slug, he leaned towards Ciri. “The Master Witcher, he is your father?”

Geralt and Ciri answered simultaneously.

"Yes," said Geralt.

"No,” said Ciri and she hissed a warning, “Geralt.”

 She glared as Geralt laughed into his mug.

Ciri continued to glare at Geralt before turning to Janek. “No, the Master Witcher is not my father. I am afraid we will not be staying beyond the morning, but you are welcome to join us until we depart for the night.”

Geralt caught the young man’s eye, a single shake of his head and Janek’s eyes widened. He stood abruptly, nearly falling backwards and stammered an unintelligible string of words before leaving the table.

“Geralt, that was rude,” Ciri sighed, “he was embarrassed enough without you scaring him so.” She pushed her drink away. “Despite your plans to interfere, I am not a child and can choose a companion for myself.”  She sighed as he hid another grin. “You’re enjoying this far too much. It’s a wonder I have any sense of relationships at all.” Ciri leaned her chin in her palm and smiled. “Refresh my memory; we’re here in White Orchard.”

Geralt nodded. “Figured that out on your own, I’m impressed.” He laughed as she shoved his shoulder.

“Smugness does not become you, Geralt. Tell me, _Master Witcher_ , where is Yennefer?” Ciri batted her eyelashes.

“Not having this discussion, Ciri.” Geralt’s smile dissolved. Yen was in the north, waiting for him. That was the agreement.

_“Do what is best for Cirilla, I will wait – not forever mind you, perhaps the day before, Geralt.”  Yennefer said. She kissed him gently and closed the door on him._

The agreement was to settle their affairs, once complete – no politics, just time for them. They’d earned the time together.

Ciri’s words poked at Geralt. “I don’t know how you manage, if someone cared so deeply for me, I don’t think I could simply walk away.”

Grumbling, he finished his drink and dropped the mug on the table. “Nothing simple about this, Ciri. Time to change the subject.”

She sat up straight. “Wager, then? This archgriffon we need to find. The farm is a day’s ride, if the information is good.”

Geralt looked on Ciri wondering what she was planning. “Your point?”

Leaning back in her chair, Ciri crossed her arms. “My point – whoever brings the beast down wins.”

He laughed. “Deal. What are your terms?”

“Careful Geralt,” she cautioned him, “perhaps you should wait to hear the terms _before_ you agree.” She paused for dramatic effect, which prompted another eye roll from him. “Fine, be that way. If you win, I will endeavor to put on my best behavior and listen to your every instruction and follow it to the letter.”

He raised his eyebrows to question her comment. “You should do that even if you don’t win.”

“Yes, yes I know. However, if _I_ win . . . you have to spend a fortnight with a certain sorceress. No work allowed Geralt, just the two of you.”

Another grumble and he leaned forward. “Did Yen put you up to this?”

Ciri shook her head. “No, but it’s ludicrous you feel the need to push her away for the sake of my training. After the fortnight, I will meet you in Skellige and submit willingly to whatever training you devise.”

“It will take longer to travel there.” Geralt offered, looking for a way out of the deal.

“Not if you use a portal and I shall arrange it for you to do just that.” Ciri said, pleased with herself.

“No deal. No portals.” Geralt cut through the air with his hand.

“I’m afraid it’s too late; you agreed to terms a moment ago, Geralt, so terribly sorry.” A quiet laugh escaped her.

_____________________________

Roach stirred and snorted at the early departure. “Come on Roach, time to go,” the archgriffon they hunted was a day’s ride away. Geralt was sure that after Oxenfurt, he had removed the only known beast in the area.

Glancing over at her several times, Geralt wondered if this was a setup. Yennefer would always place Ciri’s needs above theirs, but he could not discount the possibility that both Yen and Ciri could have concocted the entire contract.

“Is there a problem?” Ciri asked.

He sighed.  “There isn’t a training dummy in a field somewhere with a painted sign that reads ‘archgriffin’ on it, is there?”

Ciri gasped. “Geralt! Would I do something like that?” Geralt didn’t reply. “Oh, wait. I did, didn’t I – the dragon.”

“Hmm, yes. The dragon Ciri, you remember now?”

_Geralt felt hands shaking him awake to Ciri’s frantic cries. “Geralt! Come quick, there’s a dragon at the gates!”_

_Yennefer pulled out of Geralt’s arms. “A what?” She tried to wake him. “Get up, Geralt!”_

_The drink and late night did nothing for him as Geralt swung his feet to the floor and yawned.  Ciri motioned with two hands for him to follow and ran down the stairs. Yennefer cried out for her to wait._

_“Hurry, Geralt. Where are Vesemir and the others? She’ll try to face the creature alone. I’ll be right behind you.” Yennefer hurried to dress pulling on clothing and prodded Geralt to move faster._

_“I’ve got this, stay here,” he said grabbing a tunic and running after Ciri. Geralt paused to snatch a weapon from the main hall and followed her through the courtyards out the main gate._

_Lambert and Eskel stood off to one side and Vesemir waited with Ciri opposite them. Someone had planted a training dummy in the dirt. A sign hung around the post with the word ‘dragon’ painted on it. Geralt grumbled as the four laughed._

_“How nice of you to join us, Geralt.” Vesemir smiled and patted Ciri’s shoulder. “Young Cirilla devised this little wake-up for you. You’re several hours overdue, time to begin.”_

_Yennefer hurried to his side covering her obvious grin with a gloved hand. Geralt shook his head. “You too?”_

_“Oh come now Geralt, you must admit it’s quite clever.  I would have preferred a simple knock and request to wake, but things being as they are – well done!” She turned and left the group where they stood._

_Ciri jumped up and down and clapped her hands._

_Lambert’s usual annoyance evident in his crossed arms, he addressed Vesemir. “Now that the lord of the manor is finally awake, can we please do this or should we wait until milord has his breakfast?”_

_“You’re not funny, Lambert.” Eskel shook his head. “It’ll be midday before we get out of here.”_

_“I’m not the one playing lap dog to some sorceress in the tower while the rest of us do all the work.” Lambert grunted as Eskel’s fist made contact on his back._

_“All right, that’s enough.” Vesemir took control again. “Time to go. Geralt, your armor and harness are inside at the armorer’s table.”_

_Lambert grinned and mocked Yennefer’s voice.  “Do hurry along Geralt.” His attempt to sound like Yennefer elicited snickers and laughter. “Here, take the dragon with you.”_

_Geralt lifted the post to the amusement of both Eskel and Lambert. “Assholes,” he muttered walking towards the entrance to the continued laughter of the two._

 “You have to admit, it was clever of me. Ingenious even,” she glanced at Geralt.

He smiled and nodded.

“You couldn’t possibly think I would do such a thing to you now,” Ciri continued. The petitioner gave me a feather, found near his farm. It’s real. She pulled her horse to stop, and he followed. Rummaging in her pack, she pulled out a large feather. “Here, it could be a griffin - I know that – but the farmer said his livestock looked melted.  He said it looked like butter on a summer’s day,” Ciri continued, “I thought perhaps the venom? We need to look at the carcasses first to be sure.”

“True.  What do you think? With the information you have, what do you think?” Geralt coaxed Roach to move again. 

 Geralt moved into training mode. She had to investigate even if the evidence was not available.

“Right. Livestock mauled, gaping holes in the sides. The farmer claims they looked melted. The feather is from a griffin.  Without looking at the wounds, claw and beak marks and evidence of the venom, it’s a guess.”  Ciri concluded her explanation. “We won’t know what type of griffin until we arrive. It would be best to prepare hybrid oil and griffin decoction.”

“Fair enough. What goes into both?” Geralt asked,

“You can’t be serious. You want me to recite the formula?” Ciri could not believe Geralt would test her like this. “Ugh. As you wish.”

He listened as she outlined the formula and ingredients for both substances. _She’ll be fine_ , he thought _, there’s no reason Ciri couldn’t travel alone. Her abilities are strong as is her confidence. Looks like this idea to train her more for my benefit than hers._

___________________________

“Ciri, you’ve got to pay attention,” Geralt called out.  He’d almost knocked her down with an Aard blast. “You’re relying too much on teleporting!”

Ciri huffed and glared as Geralt continued to correct her stance and moves.  “I’m not checking my feet for proper placement! Stop trying to teach me and fight it!”

She rolled away and circled around the beast to her left.  She hacked left and right against the beast’s leg and stepped backwards as it took flight. Geralt pulled out his crossbow and fired two shots, returning the archgriffin to the ground. He deftly loaded an exploding bolt.

The archgriffin is lethal in the air, but cornered on the ground a witcher has to contend with the beak, claws and in this case the acidic venom. The high-pitched roar of the griffin can unbalance even the strongest of witchers.  Geralt aimed and fired, but the beast shrieked leaving him unbalanced and unfocused.

“Geralt!” Ciri cried out as Geralt swayed unaware of impending lethal strike.  “It will swipe at Geralt with its wing talon.” She lunged and sliced through the wing before it could strike. Teleporting to the opposite side she plunged her silver sword through the archgriffin’s neck. A quick grab to the dagger at Geralt’s waist and she stabbed through the top of the griffin’s neck to sever it.

The beast stumbled to the right and then backed up several steps before slumping to the ground.

_________________________

Immersing himself in the scalding water, Geralt tried to relax. Yen’s light footsteps approached the tub and her hands rubbed lazy circles at his neck and shoulders.

Yennefer continued until a long sigh and groan from his lips revealed his restful state.

“Geralt,” Yennefer’s dulcet tone floated around him, “let me see if I understand. You stood before the archgriffon knowing it would roar. You allowed yourself to risk lethal injury. I daresay it sounds like you are covering for a mistake you don’t wish to admit.”

He chuckled but did give an answer to her summation. “You should have seen her. She sliced the wing and brought the thing down in seconds.” Geralt said, pride filling every word.

Yennefer smiled. “I believe it. Tell me something, Geralt, how _exactly_ could you see all that if you were incapacitated by the creature?” She asked, her words laced with accusation.

“Going somewhere with this Yen?” Geralt asked feigning innocence.

Yennefer hummed softly. “If Ciri figures out you let her win, she’ll be quite cross,” Yennefer whispered, her hands wandering down his chest. “Although, losing this little wager has its advantages.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
